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I’d already disparaged my table companion, a man I soon learned was a former Crusader and a powerful French count.”
    â€œAnd what did he do to you? Threaten a lawsuit?” Trouble with the law, Abby noted. That could definitely be a mark in the negative column.
    Miles smiled. “The law had nothing to do with it, my lady. He sent for his bishop, threw together an impromptu inquisition—of souls without any authority, I might add—and convicted me of both heresy and witchcraft.”
    â€œWitchcraft?” Abby eased herself back on the bed. There was no doubt about that being a red flag.
    He snorted. “Aye, if you can stomach that. The count’s witnesses—paid for handsomely, of course—claimed they had seen me conversing with my familiar.”
    â€œAnd that would be?”
    â€œA fluffy black cat.”
    Abby laughed. “Oh, right. That would have been a pretty one-sided conversation, what with you sneezing your head off.”
    Miles smiled. “I laughed as well, at first. I sobered abruptly when I saw the wood piled high around the stake and one of the count’s men standing there with a lit torch.”
    â€œGood grief,” she said, “they really weren’t going to do it, were they? What kind of backwater town were you in, anyway? Hadn’t they ever heard of Amnesty International? Human rights activists would have been all over this.”
    â€œI daresay the count’s men had heard of many things, yet they fully intended to do the man’s bidding. They secured me to the post, but not without a goodly struggle on my part.”
    Abby was speechless. What was the world coming to? She made a mental note to avoid rural France as a travel destination.
    â€œThe count had taken the torch himself and was giving me a last fanatical spewing forth of religious prattle when a miracle occurred.”
    Abby found she was clutching the edge of the bed with both hands. “What?” she breathed. “A downpour?”
    Miles laughed. “‘Twould have been fitting, to be sure. Nay, ’twas my grandsire, whom I had been traveling to meet. His men overcame the count’s, he set me free and I fled like a kicked whelp, not even bothering to offer him a kiss of peace. Needless to say, my journeying in France was thereafter very short-lived.”
    â€œDid you tell the police about that guy? What a nutcase!”
    â€œPolice?” he echoed, stumbling over the word. “What is that?”
    Abby frowned. “You know, the authorities.”
    â€œAh,” Miles said, nodding, “you mean Louis. Nay, I did not think it wise to chance a visit to court. My grandsire sent word a fortnight after I arrived home telling me that he’d seen the matter settled.” Miles said pleasantly. “The sly old fox has something of a reputation. I daresay he applied the sword liberally, as well as informing the king of what went on.”
    â€œSword?” Well, Miles seemed to have one handy. Maybe his entire family had a thing about metal. “And what do you mean he informed the king?” she asked. “What king?”
    â€œLouis. Louis IX, King of France.”
    â€œBut France doesn’t have a king,” she pointed out.
    â€œAye, it does.”
    â€œNo, it doesn’t. It has a president.”
    â€œNay, it has a king. Louis IX. A good king, as far as they go.”
    Abby scrambled to her feet, careful to keep them on blanket-covered floor. As an afterthought, she made a grab for her tights to keep them from falling to her knees.
    â€œFrance does not have a king,” she insisted.
    Miles jumped to his feet just as quickly.
    â€œHow can you not know of King Louis?” he asked.
    â€œWhat is he, some fringe guy trying to overthrow the government?”
    â€œHe’s the bloody king of that whole realm!” Miles exclaimed. He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Next you will tell me